HOLY HELL! I'm freakin' back! I am soooo sorry for the what, 2 and a half year wait? It's just life finally caught up with me. But now that I've kicked life's ass, I can return to doing what I love: writing! I do sincerely apologize to all my fans of this story. It's so hard to juggle so many things at once, and unfortunately this is one of those fun things I had to drop for a little while. I will warn you, my updates may or may not be frequent. So I'll make sure this chapter is extra long and juicy for you. Because I love you guys 3 Sooo ENJOY! WOOHOO!

Chapter 5

Mid October had spread its dense, cold blanket on all of New England. The mountain tops were white with morning frost, and the bitter cold wind stung the lips of the villagers who scampered through the scarce hay bales to warm their roofs. The cries and laughter of children were unheard of, and the livestock from around the town were beginning to look sickly. Smiles were now rarely seen, even on the peppy gossiping women that flooded the trade markets in the afternoon.

Chaos had raged the pews of the magistrate court that day, as it had been doing for what seems like some time now. Women fainted, children were crying, men's faces burning red with anger. It was clear that all those afflicted children were in agonizing pain. Those poor innocent girls, tampered with by the claws of darkness and tossing demonic fits that Hale could only bare to watch. He felt it. The Devil was there. And he was heavy in the room. However, it seemed as though his focus was on another matter.

Sleep deprivation tugged at his shoulders and made matter in his eyes. This day had made the one week mark since his arrival in Salem, each day spent silently observing and analyzing the afflicted as well as the accused. He felt overwhelmed, his ears still ringing from all the noise in the court and the echoing sound of Judge Danforth's gavel pounding repetitively on the podium. It was bound to drive him insane. Partaking in the death penalty of a said witch was not something he particularly enjoyed doing.

But today made his fifth one; five times his name, written by his own holy hand, was to bring certain death. He looked up at the sky, hoping God would somehow bring him peace of mind that these actions were for the greater good; for Him and no one else.

Hale pulled himself up into his carriage after court was dismissed. He pressed his head into his thumbs as he tried to regain himself. Reminisce of his horrid night terror grazed his thoughts with a burning sting. A clear memory of that too-real place made him shiver with fear. Could it be that the Brunswick girl was sent by Satan himself to interrogate and frighten him in hopes that he would leave Salem for him to claim? He had to know. He had to know the truth. Being the theological man he is, he will do nearly anything to find the answers before crying witch to the magistrate. The thought of him being the reason for the child's death truly crushed his good heart.

Pulling the reins of his horse, he hastily began to ride his way out to the Brunswick's home in hopes maybe she would see the light in him and not shun him away again, despite their last encounter.

Silence filled the Brunswick household after breakfast that morning as the Gallows women all sat together to have tea. It was a grim silence, all three women seemingly knowing something was flagrant about this reticence. "Momma… Granny… Something – I believe it was a vision – came to me last night in a dream." Constanze brushed her thumbs against one another, looking in dismay down at her shoes.

Gretel said nothing as she sat down her spoon, her hands folded in front of her chin as if she were praying. She closed her eyes. It was well known in the family history that the Gallows women seemed to have premonition-like dreams, never failing to play part in some sort of prediction or sign especially of danger. She held her breath, bracing herself for the daunting announcement. Sybil glanced at Constanze with a worrisome look. "What is it that you saw?"

Constanze looked up. "It was the Beverly Minister, Reverend Hale."

"Mister Hale came to you in your vision?" her mother asked.

"Ay. But not on his behalf; it was on mine."

Behind her folded hands churned a small grin on Gretel's lips. But she did not show it. She peered over her knuckles to her grandbaby.

Sybil's unbroken attention ushered her to continue.

"You see, I somewhat…" she struggled to find the word, "conjured him, alone in the forest."

"So you called out to him? Did you seek cleansing?" Sybil asked.

"N-no."

Gretel sat her hands on the table, a bit excited by this point. "Well, on with it, child! What is it you called to him for?"

"Well, I-I tormented him! I brought him down to his knees with an unseen force in the bitter night in a five pointed star! I disgraced him, brought him to shame as he wept for mercy!"

The other two women looked at each other with wide eyes, one just as puzzled and speechless as the other.

"I-I berated him for the accusations of bewitching infecting the village; how he is blinded by foolishness and hearsay. I called him a fraud. I am a good girl, as green as God's finger. I wish to bring harm to no one, not even Mister Hale." She could feel the tears welling up. She held her mouth with her hand. Guilt rose and washed over her, fearing she, too had been soiled with her own false accusations.

Sybil cupped her daughters hand with hers. "We know your intentions are pure, my dear. No ill thought is of you. Can you recall anything else in your vision?"

Constanze pondered for a moment, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Yes," she stated. She sniffled. "There were… three wolves, rabid and hungry. And they… they-"

"What did they do?"

"They murdered him." She shuddered, for she had enough. Though often hot-tempered and quick on her wits to defend herself and what she loves, her caring spirit never failed to always conquer her mentality. Her thoughts were overrun by fear and guilt; not only the fear of her soul being contaminated by such awful displeasure, but for her people, her friends and family. Death would circle them like vultures, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could feel it.

"Hmmm," Gretel hummed, recalling the old superstitions passed down to her from her mothers before her. "Did you conjure the three rabid wolves to harm Mister Hale?"

Constanze shook her head. "I didn't. They appeared out of the darkness of the forest without my knowing."

"Wolves are hunters, child, and they prey on anything that can satisfy their hunger. As beautiful as their song sounds in the misty night, they can be quite scandalous. They lurk in the shadows, strong and unforgiving. And they heed to no man, woman or creature. It may be that the wolves are something you cannot control, that they are their own separate entity."

"What does this all mean, Granny?" she looked at her with pleading eyes.

Gretel shook her head. "I know not what this means, my dear. Only you can interpret what your soul is trying to tell you. Trust your instincts, my child. Never trail away from the path your heart clears for you." She smiled and brushed the hair out of her granddaughter's now smiling face.

"I understand," she whispered. She dried her eyes once more.

Gretel gave her a stern glance. "But perhaps it would be wise to talk with the reverend. He's a good man, Mister Hale. He is not here to lead us to danger; he is here to show us the light. He knows not you, not I, not your mother or father. He is a stranger in this town. And you are a Salem girl, a sweet, wholesome and strong Salem girl. Now show him some proper hospitality."

"Yes, Granny." Gretel and Sybil gave her a kiss on the forehead before she stood up to walk out the door.

"Do you think honestly she will find forgiveness in her heart for him?" Sybil asked, a warm grin growing on her lips, seeming to already know the answer.

Gretel chuckled and leaned back in her chair, fidgeting her old walking stick. "I think she already has."

As Constanze welcomed the fresh air that filled her lungs, she cleared her mind of all the woe she had inflicted upon herself. She had comfort in knowing, like the reverend, she intended to help and shed light on others in need of it; not to bring pain upon or belittle those being contrary to her. Though she knew he played part in the witch trials, she remembered what Gretel had said about him being a stranger, and he was blind to the character of the accused citizens. Perhaps now was a better time than ever to hear the other side of the story. She walked slowly, bracing herself. How was she going to unravel this mess?

She was around the edge of the familiar woods that grew around the outmost acres of her father's land when she heard the sound of a distant carriage. As the carriage approached within closer view, she recognized it immediately. It just so happened to be that of the reverend! What? How could this be so much of a coincidence? She groaned, wishing she had just a bit more time to mentally prepare and gather herself and plan out her words in fear that she would become hostile again. She stood still, knowing her light blue dress would stand out against the dead grass and he would see her. And she knew, if he was coming this far up on the property, that she was just the one he came to see. She was as ready as she'd ever be for her inspection.

'He's here to help… He's here to help… don't make accusations,' she thought to herself. The carriage came to a halt at a distance when he noticed where she was standing. She noticed he was reluctant to step out, but indeed he did. He began to walk over the hill where she was standing.

Hale's chest rose as he approached the young girl. He felt so… afraid? Of a child, for that matter. He ridiculed himself silently for feeling such way. But what must be done has to be done. But as he became closer, he was slightly relieved at the fact that she was actually smiling.

He tipped his hat. "Good afternoon, Miss Brunswick," he choked out.

"And a good afternoon to you, Mister Hale." She nodded in return, keeping her arms wrapped around herself and avoiding eye contact at all cost.

Hale cleared his throat, which was unnaturally dry. "Miss Brunswick, as you know, our last encounter was a bit, uhm-"

"Convulsive?"

He chuckled nervously, "One might put it in such words. I do hope you know I am here to teach you; to help you and the others. I wish not any ill feelings. I am merely serving my duty as God's voice. And I wish to bring you light in these dark times. Do you understand?"

"Mister Hale," she began, "forgive me if I seemed a bit… bitter towards you. I've had some time to purify my thoughts, and I know now you were called here on behalf of the village. Not against it." She paused. "I… do apologize for my belligerence."

Hale nodded. "In God there is forgiveness. And God's purpose I will serve. In times like these, I could not hold your reaction against you. But an apology is not what I've come for."

"You've come for my inspection, have you not?"

"Ay; but this is different than why I came before."

She glanced up at him. "What do you mean?"

Hale sighed anxiously, a troubled look in his eyes. "Miss Brunswick, there is a very important matter I need to discuss with you… in private. Do you mind of we sit down?"

"Is something the matter?" she asked nervously, the heat rising to her face. Had she, too, been accused?

"Let's just discuss this, shall we?" he said in a stern yet friendly tone. She looked around for other villagers who may have been watching them.

Not far from where they were standing was an old hay shed. There were a few logs that had not been cut up yet for the winter where they sat across from each other and made sure no one could see or hear them talking. If they were to be seen alone together like that, it could bring forth severe consequences for both of them. It was a small town, but the gossip line was even smaller. And accusations and rumors could spread faster than the noose that would break Hale's neck if he were caught.

"Constanze," he began, his hands folded in his lap, "tell me, do you believe in the light of God?"

"Surely I do, sir."

"Do you love Jesus and accept him as the son of God?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you believe in witches, also?"

"I do believe in witches. But I do not believe the devil is here in Salem."

"You do not believe that Satan has afflicted those children at all? Tell me why it is you think that." He leaned forward, occasionally peeping out the cracks of the boards for townsfolk.

"My father told me, by word of John Proctor, that the afflicted girls were caught dancing in the woods in the middle of the night, conjurin' up some spirit. Reverend Parris saw Abigail and Betty were not in their beds, so he went out to search for them. When he saw what they were doing, they took fright and fled. The next morning, the girls fell sick and cried witchery on Tituba. They sported to avoid punishment."

He listened to her, nodding every so often. "And why were you not with those other girls?"

"My family and I do fine by ourselves. We needn't compact with everyone in town. Is that a problem, Mister Hale?" She felt herself become agitated. She tried to not say much more.

Hale sighed. "Constanze, your grandmother and both of your parents all know their Commandments. Do you know yours?"

"Ay, sir."

"Would you recite them back to me?"

"If I must. Thou shalt have no other gods before me, thou shalt not make unto thee any graven images, thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vein, remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy, honor thy father and thy mother, thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not commit adultery, thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor, and thou shalt not covet."

Hale pondered for a moment. "Very good." He ran his fingers through his hair once before looking back up at her. Now, for the heart of the matter. "Constanze… there is one more thing I want to ask you. Please answer me honestly."

"Yes, Mister Hale?"

"Constanze Brunswick… are you aware-" he paused for a moment to gather his words. He didn't want it to sound inappropriate. "Are you aware that you came to me in a dream as I lay asleep in bed last night?"

Constanze gasped. What?! This couldn't be happening! How could this be?! Hale could see that this shocked her, and his eyes grew wide with impatience. "Mister Hale, I-"

"Did you send your spirit out to manipulate me? To fatigue my body?" his voice grew louder.

"No! Sir, please hear me! Are you aware that you came to me in a dream as I slept, also?"

Hale scowled. He pointed his finger at her. "Don't toy with me, child!"

"Ay, it be true! Please, Mister Hale! I tell you no lies! I put my word on the Bible, sir!"

Hale stopped. Everything stopped. Both he and Constanze breathed heavily, absorbing what had just happened. Hale sat down, resting his hands on his head, clearly exasperated. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head in denial. He had heard of such things his entire life. But never had he experienced this on his own. He felt as if he could cry. "Impossible… this can't be right. I would never send my spirit-"

"I know, Mister Hale. And nor would I." She gave him an empathetic look. "I assure you it had not to do with witchcraft. I swear it."

Hale stood up. He paced back and forth, not sure what to say or think at this point. Why was this happening to him, a minister, an instrument of God? He took breath. "In the dream, you conjured me in a forest."

"Ay, I recall."

"And you had no control over it?"

"Mister Hale, if I had control over it, I would not have manipulated you like that. I would not have put you through such torment. I know I was wary towards you upon our first meeting, but I assure you, I would never bring harm to no one."

He could feel the sincerity in her voice. "In this dream, there was a-"

"Five pointed star, yes."

Hale felt like he was going to be sick, or faint a one. "And the wolves… there were three. Have you any knowledge of this?" His hands began to shake.

"The wolves I did not conjure, sir. They appeared by themselves, I swear it."

Both Hale and Constanze jumped when they heard the neighing of her family's black mare pulling her father's carriage. He looked at her, wide-eyed and almost ashamed of himself. She ducked down, waiting for the carriage to pass by. Hershel had already discovered Hale's carriage sitting aside, but continued onward towards their house. "We will discuss this later," Hale said in all seriousness. He grabbed his hat and began to briskly walk back to his horse. Constanze ran into the nearby woods, hoping no one saw the obvious flee. They looked back once at each other, wondering when their next encounter, physical or spiritual, would be.